by Chogan Swan
Kest began doing deep knee bends; no way did he want to touch the floor with his hands to do pushups. Evidence of feces on the walls was enough to discourage that idea.
After a few minutes of exercise, Kest wrapped the mattress around him and tried not to think about all the contagious skin diseases that might be lurking there. He thought about meditating, but there was too much running through his head, so he considered his predicament.
What he was going through was not rare. He knew that, but it didn’t make it easier.
Plenty of sites on the web still showed phone videos of police brutality and injustice, though many of those sites had been squeezed onto the Dark Web. Knowing about injustice was different than going through it in person. The court system and its police arm was like a huge, uncaring machine that could catch you in its gears and grind you to hamburger. It ran on incentives to arrest and convict—rather than serve and protect. It was a sickness that stretched from judges down to rookie cops absorbing the toxic bullying culture that permeated the police forces across the nation.
Not one person he’d met on this trip into the system had cared anything about him or his rights. The physical abuse, and everyone ignoring it, proved that. He was guilty until he could prove himself innocent somehow. It didn’t matter if the legal system claimed it worked the other way around. As soon as they could dig his name out of him, that too would be sold on the internet. There it would always be available to those who wanted to search the arrest records. Whether convicted or not, he would always have a criminal charges record. Companies weren’t supposed to search that stuff for hiring, but they did anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he paid to expunge his record, the internet never forgets.
That wasn’t so much of a concern for him, since he never intended to work in that sort of setting, but it closed doors. It ruined careers, but the lawyers made money win or lose, and judges and police had job security. Cogs of countless agencies picked up cash flowing from the wreckage of human lives as thousands of people were incarcerated on false charges or convicted of victimless—so called—crimes.
What a fucking waste.
Kest was shuddering from the cold again, struggling with hopelessness that kept him huddling under the pad for warmth though he knew it was a losing battle. With a sigh, he stood and did another hundred knee bends. His stomach growled and his head spun a bit. His body was running out of fuel. He might have to fake a seizure to get medical attention. His only hope lay in Ayleana somehow rescuing him... Somehow. But, how could that happen? Did she have an army of lawyers that could get him out without him going through the system? The charges were bullshit, but that didn’t really matter. And he’d worked so hard to stay out of this kind of predicament.
At that moment, the door to his holding cell opened and Laslie’s chunky face appeared in the opening. “Let’s go, buddy,” he said, swinging a set of handcuffs and shackles. “You and me are going to have a little chat. Sit down and put these on your ankles then hold out your hands.”
Kest debated making Laslie put the cuffs on him himself. The idea of participating in his own enslavement was abhorrent, but it wasn’t really worth the physical punishment he’d be sure to receive. Kest put the shackles on and held out his hands, maintaining silence. Perhaps he’d get lucky and they’d go somewhere warmer.
Best not to hope. That way lies madness.
He shuffled out, chains clinking, following Laslie’s instructions on where to go: around a corner, down a hall, through a door into a room with a table and chairs. Laslie ordered him to sit then locked the chain of the handcuffs to a steel ring on the table. With false bonhomie, Laslie launched his pitch, promising to let Kest out if he would give up a name and testify as to who had run the squad car into the arroyo.
Kest stared straight ahead, face blank.
If he keeps blowing hot air, I might get warm enough to survive a few more hours.
He fought not to smile.
The little room had three video cameras, all of them were blinking the little blue lights that generally meant a camera was active. Kest wondered why they would have that feature on a surveillance camera. Weren’t they concerned people would be more wary of what they said? As the thought went through his mind, the lights on all three of the cameras vanished. A tiny curl of smoke rose from each. Laslie slapped the table for Kest’s attention, and Kest pretended to focus on Laslie’s face, but his mind raced. Sounds of disturbance from outside the room filtered to him then the lights went out. Kest ducked below the table, pulling his hands as far from Laslie as he could. He didn’t know what was going on, so logic said become as small a target as possible in the dark.
Laslie swore—Kest assumed because of the darkness—then swore again as though in pain. “Fucking phone! “
Kest smelled burning electronics, not just the cameras then, but Laslie’s phone too. It probably wasn’t an EMP burst then. Kest didn’t think there would have been that much lag between the cameras burning out and the lights and cell phone disruption. A crashing, like the door to the room being kicked by an elephant, was followed by a shout from Laslie that died abruptly.
“Windhover,” Ayleana’s voice said in his ear. “Give me your hands. I have the keys to unlock you.”
Kest raised himself back above the table and held up his hands. The cuffs and shackles fell off one by one, and something, a mask of some sort was pulled onto his face.
“Night-vision goggles,” said Ayleana. Her fingers grasped his hand and moved his finger to his temple. “Switches are here. This one is for the IR light source.”
A black and white picture of the room sprang into his vision, Laslie slumped on the floor. The door listed sideways, still attached to the frame by the lower hinge. Ayleana was running a cloth over the shackles. She had a headlamp, shining the IR light on everything she looked at, but she had no goggles.
“Did you touch anything else?” she said.
“Just the top of the table.”
She ran the rag over the tabletop.
A head with night goggles popped into the room. “The floors from the hall to the exit are marked with the glow paint. Operation fire escape is a go.”
“Alex,” said Ayleana. “Evacuate the inmates.”
The loudspeakers in the building all came on.
“All inmates please exit your cells and follow the glowing arrows to the exits. This is not a drill. Please evacuate the building. Move quickly to the exits and enjoy your illusions of freedom as long as you can. All electronic records of your arrest and incarceration have been erased. Please make the most of your opportunity to stay out of sight. The personal effects that would identify you to the authorities have been destroyed. Do not attempt to stop for them. RUN AWAY. All papers and files have been destroyed.”
“Where are all the guards? said Kest.
“They’re all locked in cells and sleeping like your friend here.”
“He’s asleep?”
“He’ll be in a drug induced coma for two months,” Ayleana said. “I doubt he’ll remember you when he wakes.”
You’re really letting all the prisoners out?”
“Not the ones who actually committed violent crimes,” Ayleana said. “There aren’t that many of those though.”
“That’s good,” Kest said. “Because if it wasn’t for my concern for their well-being, I’d have torched this place. Are we done here?”
“Come on. I’ll get you out.”
She turned to Daniels. “All done?”
“Affirmative,” Daniels said. “If you’ll step this way, sir.”
Kest fell in behind Daniels.
~~~{}~~~
“Geez, Aylie,” Daniels said under his breath, knowing she could hear him. “Didn’t you say he was a nice guy?
“Ayleana toggled her headset microphone to carry her voice back to Daniels for a response. “Nice guys are the ones you don’t want to piss off. Sic Semper Tyrannis actually means something to them.”
Chapter 10 — Fr
ee Bird
Ayleana turned when Kest came from the bathroom, drying his hair with a hand towel and holding the phone to his ear with the other hand.
“I was never arrested,” he said into the phone. “Don’t tell anyone—at all—about me getting taken to the station. Someone might look into it. None of us needs that, Calypso. Tomorrow, I’ll call to get the team together and figure out where to go from here. Yeah, I have some ideas, but I’m beat now and want to lie down.... Okay, thanks. Later.”
He ended the connection and eased onto the bed with a groan.
“Let me see that,” Ayleana said, she didn’t like the odor of pain on him.
“Just need some ice,” Kest said, lying back on the bed.
“Pull the robe down and let me see it. I’ve got something better than ice.”
“Then I'd have to sit up,” Kest moaned.
“Put the towel over your manliness then and open the robe.”
“That’s a helluva bedside manner you got there,” Kest said, but he obeyed. Maybe he was too tired to argue.
Ayleana’s face tightened when she saw the deep purple bruises and the raw scrapes down his body.
Scrapes first.
She extended her filaments from beneath her fingernails and knitted a skin patch over the injuries then let an antiseptic pain-killing compound soak into the abrasions. ”I’m not as good at this stuff as my sisters yet, but these aren’t complicated.”
“Moving hair from your fingernails? Cool! That feels good. What are you doing?”
“We call them filaments. You could call what I'm doing basic nii first-aid. My sister tells people it’s reiki.” She moved to the purple contusions. “He’s lucky he didn’t break your ribs,” she said, her lips drawing back from her teeth. She sunk her filaments into the bruised flesh, draining inflammation, injecting healing compounds and adding a touch of local painkiller.
“You mean, I’m lucky? Because I don’t think he would give a shit.”
“He would If he knew I'd visit him at the hospital and remove his ability to reproduce.”
“In a perfect universe, he'd never reproduce. The world doesn’t need someone like him as a father.” Kest glanced down at her hands. “Hey! that’s cool. The bruises are even fading. What are you doing, exactly?”
“Subsuming the blood from the contusions and speeding the healing.”
Kest sighed, relaxing as her painkillers took effect. “Oh, I need to meet Daniel and Mom for breakfast tomorrow. They just found out they have to leave for Germany tomorrow afternoon and want to make sure I know what to do with all the furniture and stuff.”
“When and where?”
“Nine o’clock? The place you got me the waffles.”
“Easy then.”
Kest smiled and closed his eyes. Ayleana increased the amount of sedative a little more. In seconds, Kest was asleep. The stress he’d been carrying since the arrest falling away. Ayleana stripped the bathrobe off and checked the rest of his body for injuries. Then, she slipped clean boxers on him, moved his head onto the pillow and pulled the sheets and blankets up around his shoulders.
“Lights off Alex,” she said then crawled in next to Kest and put her head on his chest. She’d been careless, and could have lost him. There'd been no battle nervousness to give the police away. They’d assumed there would be no trouble, and that worked to disguise their intentions, but that wouldn't fool her again. She wrapped her tail around his leg and closed her eyes. If any danger came near, she'd know.
~~~{}~~~
Kest woke to the tantalizing aroma of coffee and a clatter of ceramic cup on ceramic saucer. He opened one eye—the one not trapped against the pillow—to spy the steaming mug on the bedside table. Someone cared enough to bring him coffee, and he was free, clean and warm. He took a deep breath... and almost pain free.
“Good morning, Kest,” said Alex’s voice from the ceiling. “I detect that you are awake. The time is eight oh five. Our album launch is going well, and I sent complimentary downloads to your friends who were at the concert. Should I also send one to your mother?”
“Thank you, Alex. I would appreciate that. What did you end up naming it?”
“As a tribute to one of your favorite artists, and in keeping with our shameless reinvisioning of his album cover design, I named it Surfing with the Ayleana,” said Alex. Somehow, he sounded pleased with himself.
“Good one,” said Kest.
“Thank you. Your jeans, socks and shoes are clean and on the other side of the bed, along with a new T-shirt. I hope you like the T-shirt. Fifty-four percent of last night’s audience added at least one to their album orders.”
“Wow! They must’ve enjoyed the music.” Kest rolled over and unfolded the T-shirt. The market study seemed to have selected a space fantasy inspired version of the album art. Bold lines in the cobalt wave, now suggested a solar flare. The depiction of Ayleana and Kest in silver space suits—no sign of a tail though—was even better than what Kest had imagined.
“Awesome!” he said.
“My analysis lines up with yours,” said Alex.
Kest rolled back over, grabbing the coffee and taking a swig.
Ayleana came bounding up the stairs, leaping to land on the bed next to him. Kest put the cup back on the table in time to avoid spilling it.
“Good morning,” she said. “Feeling better?”
“Yes,” Kest said, “if you don’t count heightened paranoia.”
“That sounds like a healthy outlook. Like the saying goes, just because you’re paranoid-”
“Doesn’t mean someone’s not out to get you,” Kest finished.
“Yeah, well, the security team is in place at the restaurant. It’s time to put on our disguises, get in the SUV with the mirrored windows and go eat breakfast.”
“Ha!” Kest laughed once then stopped. “Wait, you’re serious aren’t you.”
“Hell yeah. Consider it key-person insurance for my plans for dominating the music media channels.”
“Aliens are taking over the world... of music.”
“David Bowie didn’t clue you in on that already? Time to get woke, Kest.”
Kest shook his head. “Now you’re just playing with me.”
Ayleana stared at him, poker-faced.
Kest snorted and grabbed his clothes. He decided not to think too much about the unfamiliar boxers he was wearing and slid into the jeans, working down the bunching material of the boxers afterwards.
“Sorry I stole your bed last night,” he said.
“Can you call it stealing if you share it?” Ayleana said with a laugh and bounced out of the bed to slide downstairs on the railing.
“Alex?”
“If it makes you feel better,” said Alex, “I can assure you she was a perfect gentlesentient.”
“Thanks,” Kest said. “Sleeping with the Ayleana. Just sleeping.”
“My analysis lines up with yours... again,” Alex said with intonation engineered to sound reassuring.
Kest stretched and clumped down the stairs, still a bit stiff.
“You’ll find a hoodie and dark glasses on the kitchen counter,” Alex called after him.
~~~{}~~~
Kest was glad the sun was bright and the air chilly, It made the hoodie and sunglasses inconspicuous as he and Ayleana ducked into the restaurant.
He spotted his mother and Daniel already seated in one of the aisle booths. They shared a pair of earbuds jacked into his mom’s phone. His mom had opened Alex’s email. The two of them were so intent on listening they didn’t register Kest and Ayleana’s presence until they sat across from them at the booth. Then, of course, they had to get up, hug and get congratulated on their album launch.
“You two must've put so much time into getting this ready,” his mom gushed.
“For me about ten years,” Kest said, grinning.
“How did you convince Kest to perform?” his mom said to Ayleana, giving her a side-hug.
“When the tree is r
eady, the woodcutter will find it,” Ayleana said with a short bow.
Kest laughed. “Yeah, all she had to do was ax me.”
After a chorus of groans, they sat down again.
“I’m sorry,” said his mom. “We already ordered. Our flight leaves in a few hours, and we still have so much to do. Kest, before I forget, here is the list of what stuff needs to go where. If I left anything out, text me and ask.”
Kest scanned the paper and put it in his pocket.
“That’s fine, Ms. Avsar,” Ayleana said. “We called our order in too. I have a restricted diet, and it always takes extra time. Our food will probably come when yours does.”
“Please, love, call me Yasmin. Since you two are going into business together, I hope you’ll be like one of the family, and ‘Ms. Avsar’ sounds so formal. But tell me, you play so well, but you look so young to have such a mature musical mastery. How long have you been playing?”
“I’ve had musical training all of my life, but I look younger than I am, Yasmin. In fact, I’m about Kest’s age. My mother made sure I ate nothing that had growth hormones attached to it. Everything was organic for me. Also, I exercise hard, and that can keep a girl from an early menses.”
Kest hid a smile. He had to admire how Ayleana could tell the absolute truth and still direct attention away from her... otherness. She probably got lots of practice.
Soon the food came, and the table talk turned to logistics and timetables as departure time drew near. Daniel, as usual, was quiet. When the time came for them to leave, Daniel touched Kest’s arm to draw him aside while Yasmin and Ayleana continued toward the door. He spoke to Kest in the Mescalero Apache dialect. “Your friend is more than she seems, but I think you know this.”
